Joseph Farrell

“ He looked patronizingly at O'Dea. "There's enough quintol here to get four Centaurs blind drunk!"
"Well, start slopping it up, slop!"
"This bottle," said Hawthorne patiently, "is our dictator's birthday present to our friend Morguma. The Centaurs will appreciate such a gesture of friendship!"
O'Dea stared through unbelieving black eyes at him. "Why, you—rat!—"
"Tomorrow," Hawthorne went on, "is a holiday. Nobody works except us. That's as a token of interstellar good will. We work and the Centaurs rest—except our good friend Morguma, who will be along to keep an eye on us. ”

“ A tear trickled down Morguma's leathery cheek. "Oh it was so sad! The humans resisted—poor misguided creatures! They all lost their valuable lives and we will have to return for more!"
O'Dea put down the Centaurian mushroom he had been preparing to taste. The grin disappeared from his face as he shoved back his chair and faced Morguma. There was a deadly something in his eyes that seemed out of place in the usually carefree features. ”

“ They avoided each other's eyes. Each knew what the other was thinking. Defeat meant that the Centaur had won. There would be no warning to Earth.
Avignon would become a planet of slave humans, blindly following the skillful teachings of the Centaurs. They would infiltrate Earth, tear down from within.... Generations would be required, but the Centaurs had time. They thought in long term strategy.
Hawthorne was staring unbelievingly through the telescope. His trembling fingers closed on O'Dea's arm. ”

“ Hawthorne growled softly. "You'll queer everything."
The pilot took his place at the control board and they pushed out to the asteroid belt. Morguma settled himself in his usual chair at the rear of the control room and tantalized himself by smelling the quintol.
"Oh how wonderful!" he enthused. "Aged in the bottle, too! How I love humans!"
O'Dea glanced impatiently from the corner of his eye. The Centaur was in no hurry to consume the quintol. They were approaching the asteroid belt before he had put much inside him. ”

“ Morguma enthused, behind him. "Our beautiful rocket center that we created on this formerly barren world! Oh it makes my heart sing with joy!"
The two men, eyes wide, looked down at the teeming Centaur life that filled the immense valley. Great factories sprawled for miles, apparently engaged in manufacturing and servicing space ships. Thousands of craft were berthed in neat rows for as far as they could see. From small one passenger jobs to deadly battle cruisers they were taking off and landing by the hundreds.
"There aren't that many ships in the universe," O'Dea mumbled, dazed. ”

“ Among the Centaurs, size was synonymous with rank. In this civilization so alien to human thought, the largest creature was king, though he should be only an idiot mentally!
O'Dea listened, bored, while Morguma explained in his native language to his chief. The leader stared in surprise at the two humans, then his mood suddenly became ecstatic. He spoke swiftly to Morguma, who turned to the men.
"Oh you fortunate people! It is your remarkable luck to be the first humans to inhabit this planet we create for our brothers of the solar system!"
"What's this all about?" Hawthorne growled. ”

“ His expression as he glared at Hawthorne was distasteful, but the makings of a grin played on the corners of his lips, and a thinly-hid concern was in his eyes.
"This is the end," he said. In one hand he clutched a photograph of a dark-haired girl. "The end, Mercedes! To think you'll be a widow before you're even a wife, all because that ape of a Hawthorne lost all our fuel in Centauri's asteroid belt—"
"Shut up!" the pilot demanded. One of his hands flipped a wad of something green back in O'Dea's direction. "Here's the ten platins I owe you. And get ready—this is it!" ”

“ Lance O'Dea felt perspiration trickling down his face. He studied the happy aliens.
Morguma waved his weapon. "You will please to come out, our beloved brothers of Earth! It will create difficulty to remove your ship to a more auspicious location if you do not remove yourselves from it first!"
The two men descended from the lock. Above them a Centaur ship hovered, darted out pale green seizure beams. In the grip of the beams, the Earth ship slid back from the mesa edge to more secure ground. ”

“ We Centaurs are a delicate sensitive people! We love the beautiful things of life, and dislike such noisy greasy articles as space ships. So a few years ago it was decided to remove all the dirty factories from our home planets. Now the only craft that disturb the peace of our people on the main planets of Centauri are the rockets that transport materials and workers to and from Avignon! ”

“ Though neither human nor Centaur suspected the existence of the other, each progressed about as rapidly, as if linked by cosmic telepathy. Each race colonized its own system and gradually built up speeds great enough for interstellar travel. Indeed, the first human ship had just left for Centauri when the first vessel of the Centaurs landed on Mars.
For a time, it seemed that a beneficial union of two races had been established. Then it was discovered that the aliens had moral standards so different from humans that life with them was impossible. ”

“ Then Morguma came and led them to a huge boiler factory that was fitted as a dining room, where they toyed with Centaur food and ate vita-horm capsules salvaged from their ship.
After that, it was out to the asteroid belt for another load of frozen atmosphere.
"Oh, Hell," said O'Dea. They were going back to their quarters after another day's work. "If it wasn't for that picture of Mercedes, I'd throw in my buttons. I'm dying to see a human being again!"
Hawthorne's homely face turned suspiciously to him. "I'm here, ain't I?" ”

“ And what's more, the instruments show it's a real atmosphere—like Earth's!"
"There's no such planet! Your instruments must be damaged!"
"No." Hawthorne shook his head. "These instruments don't lie. And they say we have an atmosphere. It may be thicker in the valleys!"
"Then," O'Dea insisted, "the Space Guide must be wrong, because my memory distinctly tells me—"
"Be damned to your memory! I brought this ship down, and I felt the atmosphere. What's more, all the planets inside the asteroid belt, except this one, are inhabited by Centaurs—and we're certainly inside the asteroid belt." ”

“ The quintol that was a part of rocket fuel was the equivalent of alcohol to the metabolism of the Centaurs. Several times he had seen Morguma take a quick pull from a small bottle he kept in his leathery garment—the Centaur version of a hip flask.
Morguma changed the subject as O'Dea's throaty chuckle continued. He pointed to the grayish speck in the telescope.
"Oh a remarkable find! A lump of solid carbon dioxide, and of such a size! Oh how fortunate we are to have such fortunate fortune!"
Their vessel closed in on the chunk of almost pure carbon dioxide, a piece larger than the ship. ”

“ Whether he and Hawthorne played the game was of little importance as far as the Centaur's plans went, except that the creatures liked the symbolism created by having two humans work on the project.
"Morguma," he said. "Those spaceships on Avignon can't all be engaged in this work. There are types there that can be of no use."
"Oh you are so intelligent to reason that!" Morguma marveled. "This pretty planet of Avignon is the reservation we have set aside for all space work. All of our ships are built there and all are based there!"
O'Dea tracked down a likely looking asteroid. ”

“ Before Hawthorne finished barking the command, O'Dea's hand shot down, releasing the seizure beams. The ship catapulted skyward as the weight was suddenly dropped. The pilot fought the pounding rockets. When it was under control, Hawthorne circled back over the valley.
They stared at the mass of earth that tumbled down the mountain side in a gathering avalanche. Their asteroid plunged bouncing into the valley below, shaking the entire volcano each time it hit. New avalanches started in its wake. ”

“ He was remembering that the human race was at war with these beings, though there had been practically no fighting for ten years, since the time the Centaurs in the solar system were exchanged for human hostages held by the enemy. ”